


Four of a Kind

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic, Growing Up, Gryffindor Harry Potter, Horcruxes, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, M/M, Misadventures, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Political Intrigue, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, The occasional fluff: also to be expected, angst to be expected, growing strong, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: Hadrian, Hendrick, Hayden and Heracles Potter were not born quadruplets. In fact prior to October 31st, 1981, only one of them, Harry, existed. The problem was discerning which - especially considering that they were a mere fifteen month olds.Most would find the idea of a cloned toddler distressing. A single babe was enough of a hassle, after all. Albus Dumbledore, however, received the quartet as a gift—a sign—anopportunity. Instead of the one expected chance, he had four.He had no doubt that he would succeed. One day, the Dark Lord Voldemort would be vanquished for good.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 14
Kudos: 136





	Four of a Kind

By some odd twist of fate they all ended up sitting together. Or maybe it wasn’t fate at all - maybe it was the buzzing under their skin that would not abate until they followed its pull to compartment 5F. 

It took twelve minutes for them all to arrive. 

They stared at one another silently, cataloging the differences. 

Their faces were all the same. They were not.

Heracles was the one to break the quiet.

“We’re family,” he whispered. “I have a family.” 

“ _We_ have a family,” Hayden corrected, reaching out and brushing a hand across Hadrian’s cheek, wonder brightening green eyes. 

Hadrian shied away from the touch, eyes wary. “Family…” he murmured slowly, as though the word were foreign. “Like the Dursley’s?” 

“No,” Hendrick denied immediately. Hands reached out to connect, one littered with scars, the other rough from use. This time, Hadrian did not flinch. “Never like the Dursley’s.”

Heracles and Hayden’s agreement was in the brush of skin as two hands moved to link together four. 

“I thought you were a nightmare,” Hayden whispered mournfully. Hadrian moved as if to pull away, but three hands caught on his, indomitably drawing him back. 

When Hadrian smiled it was a slow and sad thing. “You were the sweetest dream I ever had.” 

Hayden's smile wasn’t any happier. “I know. I’m sorry, Harry.” 

“With greatness comes suffering,” Hendrick said softly, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “And we have all suffered.”

There was no denying that.

“Though,” Heracles murmured wryly, “greatness has yet to come.” 

* * *

_Year One: I suppose you’re just that sort_

_“Regardless of where we end up, let’s have breakfast together in the morning!”_

Hadrian kept those words tucked close to his heart as they entered the Great Hall in two single file lines. He was only four people from the front, with Hayden directly behind him. Hendrick and Heracles stood parallel to them, and when he glanced over Hendrick met his eyes with a smile. He tentatively returned it, the expression tight and foreign on his face, before turning his attention to McGonagall. 

“Abbott, Hannah!” 

And so the sorting began. 

Students sat on the three-legged stool and a ragged old hat proclaimed where they belonged within moments. 

Was that really all it took, wondered Hadrian, to see the essence of them? Was the human mind not a complex thing?

"Potter, Hadrian!" 

Heads aplenty craned as Hadrian approached the three-legged stool, trying to get a good look at the Boy-Who-Lived. 

As the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes Hadrian thought of Hendrick, who had extolled the virtues of every house but seemed especially besotted by the idea of Slytherin. As much as he would like to keep his new _family_ close, he remembered their plans and thought, ‘ _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin.’_

The Sorting Hat whispered promises of greatness into his mind, but Hadrian remained firm. Eventually, it seemed to have had enough of his obstinance.

“ _Well if you're sure, better be..._ GRYFFINDOR!”

The applause was sudden and thunderous. He tried to ignore the way bodies brushed against his own on the way to the Gryffindor table, and practiced breathing normally under the laser-focused attention. Somebody grabbed his hand and pumped it several times; another set of identical boys were shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" at the top of their lungs. 

The clamor had barely begun to settle when McGonagall cleared her throat again.

"Potter, Hayden!"

For a short, blissful moment there was a shock of quiet. 

The commotion was quick to follow, buzzing through the Great Hall like a hoard of agitated bees. 

“Potter, did she say?” 

“But Harry Potter doesn't have a brother!” 

“Look at their faces - they’re twins!” 

Many eyes had turned to the freshly sorted Gryffindor, but Hadrian ignored them in favor of watching his brother climb onto the stool. The hat dropped over his carefully smoothed hair, falling to the tip of his nose, which momentarily crinkled as the fabric brushed it. 

Hadrian had never spent much time in front of the mirror, and even after an entire train ride together he found himself fascinated by the expressions his face could make. Emotions he could never even recall feeling played across three different canvases. It was especially odd to glance at the remaining unsorted students and see Hendrick and Heracles right next to each other, expressions similar but somehow different. 

“RAVENCLAW!” cried the Sorting Hat. 

The confused murmurings carried on, but the Ravenclaws clapped for their newest entry readily enough. 

And then, just as the fuss began to settle, "Potter, Hendrick!" 

The cries of confusion began anew. People in the wizarding world felt like they knew Harry Potter on a personal level. There had been books written; merchandise sold; many of their future peers had fallen asleep to bedtime stories of the great and powerful child who slayed the evil Dark Lord. 

Only now there were four children. Some seemed to have noticed by now, nudging their friends and pointing at Heracles, one of the last of the First Years left to be sorted. Most people were caught up in staring at the still form of Hendrick, waiting to see what the Sorting Hat might say next. 

“SLYTHERIN!” anticipatory grins dropped from dozens of faces as the clamor of the hall hushed. There was a moment of complete stillness, and then Hadrian climbed to his feet and clapped, as hard and loud as he could. His siblings followed, and slowly the rest of the hall did as well. 

Hadrian only reclaimed his seat when Hendrick had taken his place at the end of the Slytherin table, ignoring the looks he could feel from his new housemates.

They shared a shy smile.

McGonagall cleared her throat, a shade paler than before, and the sorting resumed.

"Potter, Heracles!"

This time the sorting was not nearly so long. The hat sat upon Heracles head for all of ten seconds before it shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!” 

The yellow and black table broke into applause readily, and Hadrian was relieved to note that they seemed the most welcoming of all the houses. 

The students in the hall watched McGonagall expectantly, but she moved on from the Potter’s with a, “Rivers, Oliver!” and that seemed to be that. 

The next five students Sortings were completed inside of a minute each, and Dumbledore rose to his feet once Blaise Zabini has settled at the end of Slytherin's table.

Hadrian only half-heard his odd words, mind still whirling over the reaction to Hendrick’s placement. His gut was churning along with his mind, and it took a long moment to recognize that he was _afraid_ for his—brother. 

He wasn’t used to feeling much in regards to other people, too focused on staying quiet, out of sight, and unharmed. But he found himself suddenly connected to three other people—people who shared his face, his name, his _blood._

Family were people you worried about, Harry considered, eyes meeting identical green across the hall. And the foreboding atmosphere that rose upon Hendrick’s entrance into his preferred House was certainly concerning. 

“Which one of you defeated You-Know-Who?” the redheaded boy across from Hadrian blurted, shaking him from his thoughts.

Hadrian spared him a brief glare and turned away, pointedly ignoring the question. As he set to gathering small portions of food, the anticipatory silence faded into introductory chatter. 

Nobody else dared to ask. 

* * *

Gryffindor’s common room was full of plush furniture, the amount of crimson edging the line of garish. 

It was the living arrangements that made him wary. Hadrian’s cupboard had always been a singular safe place in the Dursleys house. Sure, he loathed being locked inside, but Dudley hadn’t bothered coming in for years, Vernon could hardly fit, and Petunia wouldn’t deign to. 

In Gryffindor Tower he would be surrounded by four strange boys, one of which had already asked him a rather rude and personal question. He could only anticipate more, and yet the other boys were fairly quiet as they settled. Dean and Seamus, who became fast friends at the Feast, whispered together, which Ron remained in a sulky silence. Hadrian avoided his gaze, concerned the Weasley might regain steam if he noticed his attention. Neville kept shooting worried glances at all of them as he unpacked his trunk, looking as though he expected an attack. It wasn’t all too different from how Hadrian must look at the Dursley’s, which made a faint curiosity stir that was easily enough ignored. It was none of his business.

Unwilling to give anybody a chance to start conversing with him, Hadrian climbed into his bed, pulling the curtains secure. He settled awkwardly on the plush surface, keeping above the blanket to ensure a quick escape if he needed one, and listened closely.

Nobody approached his bed—though somebody huffed loudly and began grumbling as he banged around his trunk—and Hadrian slowly allowed his muscles to unwind.

He was exhausted after the events and realizations of the day, but sleep was long to come.

* * *

As promised, the boys met outside of the Great Hall the following morning. Heracles was the last to arrive, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, looking a right mess. Hayden snorted at the sight, stepping forward to fasten his tie, while Hendrick shot a spell at him that pressed the wrinkles from his robes and secure the front clasp. 

“Not a morning person?” Hadrian asked, both bemused and enchanted by how effortlessly his brothers touched each other. It was a small thing, making Heracles presentable, but it showed they cared. Nobody had ever done anything like that for Hadrian. 

“Tea,” Heracles groaned.

“Oh dear,” Hayden laughed. “We’ll sit at the Hufflepuff table this morning?”

“It’s certainly more neutral than Slytherin or Gryffindor,” Hendrick agreed. 

And so they did. There weren’t many people in the Great Hall at a quarter to seven in the morning, but the early risers twisted to stare. Hadrian wondered whether it wasn’t the done thing, or if it was due to their celebrity status. Perhaps it was both.

Whatever the reason, none of the teachers moved to separate them, and Hadrian knew from Hogwarts: A History that sitting with your own House was only mandatory at Feasts. 

That morning they spoke of what their new living arrangements were like, and their roommates. When Hadrian mentioned Ron Weasley’s comment at the feast Heracles snorted.

“It’s not like we actually _know_ ,” he grumbled. “Smith—Zacharias Smith, my roommate—said something similar, only not so blunt. Still, he’s lucky I don’t know any hexes yet.”

Hendrick hummed. “If we’re going to talk about stupid roommates, I believe I’ll win.” 

Three sets of identical, inquisitive eyes landed on him. 

“Draco Malfoy insulted our mother, our blood, and implied I couldn’t possibly think for myself all in one sentence. If might have been impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed. And _oh_ did he get testy when I refused to shake his hand.”

“So we’re enemies already, then?” Hayden asked, quirking a brow. 

Hendrick shrugged. “Politically speaking, he doesn’t have a right to expect my handshake or alliance, especially as improperly as he began our contact. And he must know as much, being the Malfoy scion; I can’t imagine him growing up without being drilled on etiquette and our respective standings in society.”

Hayden blinked. “Like I said on the train, you _must_ teach us as soon as possible. I’d rather not go around offending people on accident.”

Heracles smirked, so fast it could almost have been Hadrian’s imagination if not for his next words. “Only on purpose.”

Hendrick shot him a rather impressed look. “Indeed. Does after classes in the library suit?”

They agreed.

* * *

Hendrick, decided Hadrian, was a rather good teacher. The Slytherin explained things very clearly, words polished and concise, but rather than answering every question he made them think.

“Why are muggleborns looked down upon?” somebody would ask, and Hendrick would say, “Give me reasons you believe they might be.” 

It was surprisingly enjoyable. Hadrian hadn’t been allowed to do well in primary school, but there was no reason he couldn’t do his best at Hogwarts. After all, if an owl dropped off a grade card the Dursley’s would sooner burn it than read it.

“Well it’s essentially a different culture,” Heracles mused, “so because they don’t know much about the wizarding world, maybe.”

Hayden made a vague noise of agreement, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Cultural appropriation would make sense.” At his brothers looks, Hayden expanded. “As an outsider, we have preconceived notions of right and wrong. Christianity demonizes witches and wizards, and I, at least, have been raised to believe things I’m sure don’t hold true here. Plus muggles have historically persecuted witches and wizards, so much so that we were once burned at the stake.” 

Hendrick smiled. “I can definitely see why you’re a Ravenclaw, though for your information, it was rarely us that were burned. What do you think, Hadrian?” 

Hadrian folded his hands, staring down at them as he considered. “People fear what they don’t understand,” he said quietly. “I think that it goes both ways. Muggleborns might scorn old wizarding families because they don’t understand or care for their traditions, and purebloods have the same issue only flipped. The difference is that purebloods aren’t exposed to the muggle world. They don’t have to enter a whole new society like we do.”

A hand was laid over Hadrian’s, and he stiffened for a moment before the warmth of the touch allowed him to relax. He looked up to find Hendrick smiling at all of them, looking rather proud. 

“Culture shock," he nodded. "Well reasoned. It’s all of that, tied with ignorance and a superiority complex. ‘Magic is Might,’ was a phrase touted by our most recent Dark Lord. Before him, the Dark Lord Grindlewald called for the extermination of all muggles ‘For The Greater Good’. The thing is, most wizards have no clue how far muggles have actually developed; they’ve never been exposed. They don’t know about phones, videography, or even nuclear warfare.”

“Add that to the fact that our community’s progress comes much slower and our populace lives longer… well, a lot of older wizards still believe muggles are just as they were in the early 1900’s. Which is complete bollocks, but they’re happy to live with their delusions.” 

Heracles frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?” he muttered. “It’s surprising we haven’t been caught on camera yet. My… accidental magic was rather frequent as a child. With the rate of technological advances in the muggle world, we’re in danger of exposure, aren’t we?”

Hadrian paled. “People fear what they don’t understand,” he repeated. They all went still, considering how the Dursleys reacted to magic. Considering how Heracles peers at the orphanage had, even not knowing just what they were reacting to. Hendrick and Hayden did not know all of it, but dreams told enough. 

“As i-i-interesting as t-this i-is, it’s n-nearly curfew, P-Potters.” The brothers started, turning to face the bookshelves. Professor Quirrell, as twitchy and nervous as ever, peered at them from the left aisle, hands white-knuckled around a thick maroon book. 

Hendrick stood first, smile apologetic. “Of course, sir. We’ll head back to our dormitories. Sorry to disturb you.”

“N-not a p-problem,” Quirrell responded, nodding tightly at them. “T-though I remind y-you, t-there are s-some t-things you s-shouldn’t s-speak of in p-p-public.”

“Yes, Professor,” Hendrick said, grabbing Hayden’s wrist when it looked like he would rather like to say something else. “Good evening.”

“Good night, Professor,” the rest said in turn.

Dark eyes followed them around the corner and out of the library. 

* * *

Their second morning at Hogwarts went similarly, until Hayden announced that he had something for them all. They were at the Ravenclaw table, and given a fairly wide berth by the older students that were awake. 

Just as they finished their meal Hayden reached into his satchel and produced four bracelets.

“How sweet,” Hendrick smiled, accepting his and easily securing it around his wrist one-handed. “And in our new house colors, too.”

“It’s not ‘sweet,’” Hayden grumbled, helping both Hadrian and Heracles latch theirs into place. “It’s practical. This way we’ll know when one of us needs the others. We may be separated by tradition, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be available to one another. We are family, after all.” 

“And that’s what family does,” said Heracles, sounding somewhat unsure on the point. None of them had ever had a family of their own, and you could only learn so much by observing. “Well, cheers then. It’s a lovely gift; you’ll have to teach me the enchantment.” 

“Thank you,” Hadrian murmured, gently turning the thin bracelet about with his thumb. His movements were careful and reverent, though the band would hardly snap so easily. It was the most meaningful gift he had ever received. “How does it work?” 

“The band will shift to the house colors of whichever of us needs assistance,” Hayden explained. “It will flash if the need is urgent, or stay solid if it can wait. It’s relatively simple, and I don’t know the magic to include locator spells, so really it’s only useful in knowing that one of us needs to speak to the others. It’d probably be best to decide on a neutral meeting ground, like the library or the Great Hall.” 

“I’m not sure we can consider the Great Hall neutral,” Hendrick murmured. “When I stopped by the Hufflepuff table yesterday evening, it hardly seemed welcoming. I can only imagine how much worse it might be if I visited Gryffindor.”

“You have a point,” Hayden admitted. “For now, let’s say in front of the library, okay?”

They nodded agreeably.

* * *

Flying was something of a revelation. There wasn't a feeling freer than soaring kilometers above the ground, exalted to such heights on the merit of your own magic. 

They each found their favorite subjects, but something each brother could agree on was this: the feeling, the _freedom_ of flying a broom was utterly magical. 

Potions class was decidedly _not._

* * *

Days passed, then weeks, and Hendrick began to notice something rather worrying. 

He frowned at the small portion being pushed around Hadrian’s breakfast dish. It wasn’t the first time he had noticed how little his brother ate. In fact, he had been noticing since he declined all treats on the Hogwarts Express, despite there being more than enough to share.

Having grown up with House Elves as his primary care-takers and teachers, Hendrick saw nothing wrong with spiking his brother’s food. It was something elves did when their Masters weren’t taking proper care of themselves. By his accounting, if Hadrian didn’t bother to eat three meals a day he deserved nutrition potions mixed in with his mashed potatoes. Still, if Hendrick wanted to keep his brothers trust it would be better to just confront him. 

Who knew what he might pick up on in their dreams, otherwise. 

Still, he couldn’t waltz across the Great Hall and force feed him, so Hendrick had to content himself with a promise for later. 

* * *

“Harry,” he pulled him to the side of the hallway, out of the way of clamoring children. They had just finished Charms and both had a free period next, which meant it was the best time to confront Hadrian, especially as their other brothers were off to their next class and wouldn’t interfere. “We need to talk, dear. Drop off your books and meet me in the library?”

He made it a request because he had already recognized how poorly any of them did with orders, and fortunately, after a narrow-eyed moment, Hadrian relented. 

“I promised Granger we’d do our Transfiguration outline together, but I guess I can postpone. It’s important, isn’t it?”

“Extremely,” Hendrick nodded, gently tucking a lock of hair behind Hadrian’s ear. “Thank you for making time for me. See you soon, yes?”

Hadrian grabbed his hand before he moved away, holding it tight between his own. “There’s no need to say it like that,” he said softly, ignoring the eyes he felt burning into his back. “We’re family, right? We’ll always have time for each other.” 

“Of course we will,” Hendrick smiled. Hadrian felt warmed by it.

In class Hendrick tended to show very little emotion, mimicking the blank faced purebloods around him beautifully, but when they were together he was still the boy Hadrian had met on the train. 

The first one to reach out and touch him. 

The first to look at him like he was something precious. 

“Go on, love. Granger’s hovering around the corner.” 

“Alright,” Hadrian murmured, releasing his brother somewhat reluctantly. The touching hardly bothered him at all nowadays - at least, when the contact was from one of his brothers. Letting go was the hard part. Still, it would be rude to keep Hermione waiting, especially as he was about to cancel their plans. “See you soon.” 

Hendrick watched him go with a smile, knowing Hadrian might soon be less than happy with him. Still, he wouldn’t take any risks when it came to the health of his brother, and he didn’t want Hadrian to end up as one of those wizards the elves had to drug to protect. 

Hadrian was far from weak, and he hardly needed protection - except, perhaps, from himself.

As expected, the conversation did not go smoothly. 

However, after Hendrick tag-teamed with Hayden to explain the long-term consequences of malnourishment on both body _and_ magic, Hadrian began to eat his meals more often than he picked at them. 

Still, if he was caught up in his head he fell into old habits.

The brothers promised each other to watch out for such times and urge him to eat when necessary. 

Hadrian still had trouble processing the fact that his brothers genuinely cared for him. Though really, they were a bunch of mother hens. 

* * *

“You should’ve seen Hadrian,” Heracles snickered. “His quill went a near inch deep into the ceiling. Talk about an overabundance of power!” 

Hadrian frowned, curling in on himself a bit before his body language relaxed under the light-hearted teasing. “At least I managed,” he grumbled. “You wouldn’t listen to Granger about the pronunciation and kept saying it wrong.” 

“Oi, you know I got it at the end!”

“After the bell rang, maybe,” Hadrian conceded. “Not _during_ class.” 

Heracles huffed, crossing his arms and turning away. “How’d you do, then?” 

“Got it on the first try,” Hayden shrugged.

“Professor Flitwick didn't seem too impressed,” Hendrick noted. Usually Flitwick was rather generous with points, but Hayden hadn’t been awarded any for his feat.

“He caught me practicing it nonverbally,” the Ravenclaw admitted sheepishly. 

“And succeeding, at that!” 

Hayden, Hendrick and Heracles jerked around, startled by the sudden appearance of said Professor. Hadrian seemed somewhat amused, having been the only one in a position to see Flitwick approach. 

Hendrick shot him an exasperated look. Hadrian had yet to fully emerge from his shell, but they were seeing glimpses of a rather mischievous personality more and more often.

Hendrick couldn’t wait until Hadrian was comfortable enough to show them everything. 

* * *

While the four brothers relationship only seemed to grow stronger, the same could not be said for Hadrian and his year-mates. Even nearly two months in, Hadrian had no friends. Hermione, while willing to study with him, was a rather pushy girl, something that Hadrian did not take kindly to after a childhood with the Dursley’s. He remained hesitant to talk to his roommates, not wishing to intensify an already awkward situation. Sure he was perfectly polite to Dean, Seamus and Neville, but Ron had taken to following him around and calling him ‘mate’. Mostly, Hadrian ignored him. Sometimes, that wasn’t possible.

“Are you ready for the feast? George said they go full-out, I bet the spread will be wicked!”

“Our parents died today,” Hayden said coolly, eyeing the boy with clear disdain. “We aren't in the celebrating mood.”

Ron’s face twisted, ears flushing red as he scowled. “I wasn't asking _you,_ I was asking Harry!”

Hadrian turned to meet the redheads gaze, expression unusually flat. “My name is _Hadrian_ , and Hayden is right. We will be spending the night together as a family.”

They resumed their trek to the Charms classroom, ignoring the spluttering, red-faced boy left behind.

* * *

The troll was dead. 

The brothers met each other's eyes, and then looked to Hadrian. 

He was drawn tense, anticipating something none of them wanted to consider. 

Heracles flung himself at his brother, eyes bright and limbs shaking as the excess adrenaline fled his system. Hadrian stumbled back a step as arms wrapped around his waist and Heracles face tucked into his neck. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Hadrian melted into the contact, arms automatically moving to wrap around his brother. 

“You’re okay,” Hadrian whispered, though it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself. 

“Thanks to you,” Heracles returned.

The boys tensed and separated at the sound of rapid footsteps, Hadrian automatically moving in front of Heracles. Three wands raised, pointing at the door just as McGonagall burst in. Her eyes immediately found the burnt, disjointed remains of the troll, before flicking to the boys bathed in the creature's blood. 

“Stand down!” She barked just as Snape arrived, Quirrell shortly behind him. Three wands lowered in sync as the Defense Professor let out a quiet whimper, leaning his weight against the wall as he stared, wide-eyed, at the mess.

“What happened here?” McGonagall demanded, voice low and cool in its fury. Her lips were pinched white, eyes fierce as they drilled into each of the boys. 

“It’s—it’s dead,” Heracles whispered. He looked the most shaken up out of any of them, limbs still trembling, eyes wide and empty as he stared at the Professor. If Hadrian hadn’t just been wrapped in his solid embrace he might have believed the image of trauma the Hufflepuff was so easily projecting. 

McGonagall’s temper seemed to gentle as she looked at him, but her expression made it clear that she expected an explanation. 

“I can see that, Mr. Potter. My question is _how_.” 

Hadrian opened his mouth, but before he could say anything damning Hendrick spoke up. “Hadrian, Hayden and I—we all shot spells at the same time. It had Heracles pinned down, and he didn’t have his wand. I… I don’t know what happened, Professor, but when they hit the troll he just blew up.” 

“What spells did you use?” Snape demanded, dark eyes pinning Hendrick, as though daring him to lie.

“Incendio,” Hayden volunteered immediately. 

“I directed the scouring charm at its eyes,” Hendrick admitted.

“I didn’t really use an incantation,” Hadrian offered quietly, eyes turning towards the mangled corpse. The three Professor’s all seemed to tense at the Gryffindor’s words, staring intently at the top of his head. “I just thought that I couldn’t let it touch Heracles, and…”

“Are you s-saying you just d-directed magic t-t-through your wand?” Quirrell asked, sounding rather faint. 

“I’m saying I pointed, and it exploded,” Hadrian whispered. He looked up just as a single tear fell from bright green eyes, and swallowed loudly. “Please, my brothers didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t even know what happened, but I. I killed him. It was me, so if anyone should be expelled—”

“Expelled? Mr. Potter, you’re lucky you weren’t killed in the backlash!” McGonagall exclaimed. “There’s a reason incantations exist. Funneling raw energy through your wand with no clear aim... spell creators have died from less than that, you reckless child!”

“I-it sounds l-like a-accidental m-m-magic,” said Quirrell. “Mr. P-P-Potter can h-hardly be p-punished u-unless he c-cast a s-spell i-intending to k-kill the troll.” 

“Indeed,” Snape said, and with a flick of his wrist Hadrian’s wand flew from his hand and landed in the Potions Master’s long-fingered grasp. “Let us see if the boy’s words are true. _Prior Incantato._ ”

The tip of Hadrian’s wand began to glow, indicating that the last spell cast had been a lumos charm. Snape looked momentarily displeased, before his expression evened out and he flicked his own wand again, nonverbally levitating Hadrian’s back to him. 

McGonagall lost some of the tension in her shoulders when faced with evidence that Hadrian had killed the troll unintentionally. Her gaze remained hawk-like as it fell back upon the boys. “There’s still the matter of why none of you were at the feast this evening. Had you all been where you should have, you’d now be tucked safely away in your dormitories.” 

Hayden cleared his throat, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder in a show of support. “It’s my fault, Professor,” the Ravenclaw admitted, meeting her gaze fearlessly. “If I hadn’t suggested we skip the feast—”

“We skipped the feast because this isn’t particularly a day we feel like celebrating on,” Hendrick bit out. Hayden turned his head sharply, frowning, and Hendrick took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing slightly. “My apologies Professor, that was uncalled for.”

But the reminder seemed to have done some good, for McGonagall deflated slightly. Snape was staring at them all, his expression indecipherable, while Quirrell kept glancing from Hadrian to what was once a mountain troll.

“Not wanting to attend the festivities is understandable, but how did you wind up in the girls lavatory?”

At this, Heracles took a step forward. “We decided earlier in the day to meet by the Charms room,” he explained softly. “I was on my way, only the troll suddenly showed up. I locked myself in the nearest room, but it broke down the door with its club. I was cornered when my brothers showed up—they must have heard the commotion. I… I was shouting rather loudly.”

All of the fierceness in McGonagall’s features faded as though it had never been there. She leaned down, grabbing the wand that lay abandoned by the doorway, lost in the scuffle. “I see. Well, have your wand back, Mr. Potter. Next Halloween I expect the lot of you to spend in the Hufflepuff dormitories.”

And that, it seemed, was that.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Would you believe that I've been writing this story on an off (mostly off) since July 8th, 2013? Because I can't.
> 
> I know where I want it to end up, and I know how I want it to start. Now I've just got to flesh out the middle. ( _Seriously? July 8th, 2013?!_ )
> 
> Please leave a comment on your way out. :)


End file.
